


Rumor Has It

by Abbie



Series: All of the shit talk, yeah all the chatter [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Rumors, consequences to the EA decision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity overhears her ex-coworkers discussing her move to the executive office--and how she got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

> The first of a series of drabbles that will explore the consequences of the various outside perceptions of Team Arrow, through rumor, misinformation, assumption, lies, and tabloid gossip mongering. The large focus will be on Felicity, with a good deal also on Diggle and possible others. 
> 
> This will not be a fix-it for the bad shit the show hasn't bothered to address or examine; it will simply highlight the wider consequences and feature the team going through and dealing with these things together.

"I mean, what other explanation even is there?" The tall, thin redhead asked with a shrug, eyes on the coffee she was doctoring with sugar and grocery store creamer. "Last year she’s in the cubes with the rest of us, Oliver Queen brings her a personal project, she gets repeat calls up to Mr. Steele’s office, and she gets a private office. Then last _week_ she’s, okay, still in her office, still here with the rest of us, fielding calls and emails and worrying whether we’re gonna even have _jobs_ in a month. Then Queen comes back from wherever-the-hell, and Smoak becomes his… _secretary_?”

The short, round blonde leaned against the counter beside the redhead and sipped at her tea, brows furrowing. “Totally weird, I know. But you really think it’s because of _that_? I just don’t know, Jenna, Felicity was really good at her job. Maybe she just, you know, earned the promotion.”

Jenna cut her eyes at her pityingly, scoffing at the blonde’s naivete. “That is _not_ a promotion, Laney. She went from climbing the IT ladder to scheduling Queen’s appointments. And seriously, what the hell _else_ could’ve been going on there? Felicity stopped coming to trivia night months ago, never had time anymore for lunch with the rest of the Lady Coders Club, it’s so typical it _hurts_. A guy comes along and a girl’s priorities go way out the window.”

A short, stocky young man with too-long black hair sat on the edge of the break room table behind the women, a half-eaten energy bar dangling from one hand. He snorted, drawing Jenna and Laney’s attention. “You kidding me? This isn’t some girl-leaves-her-friends-for-new-boyfriend thing. Whatever Smoak and Queen are up to, it is _not_ dating, let me tell you.” His full mouth twisted bitterly. “Felicity is smart, good at her job, and she always knew it, too, and we all know she wasn’t shy about it. This is ambition. She saw a chance to fasttrack up to higher social and corporate ground and leapt at it, obviously.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow consideringly, but Laney lowered her mug and narrowed her eyes. “You sure you’re not just still pissed she wouldn’t go out with you last year, Rico?”

Rico bristled and rolled his eyes. “Please. I obviously dodged a bullet getting rejected by that one. Anybody’s who’s willing to dump their education and career for a chance to ride the escalator to success with Oliver Queen’s dick in her mouth is obviously not somebody I want to take home to my mother.”

Jenna buried a surprised cackle in her coffee, but Laney rolled her eyes. “That just doesn’t really seem like Felicity’s style, you guys.”

Jenna scoffed a “ha!” and set her mug back on the counter, reaching for more sugar. “Oh, please, Laney, we all know Queen’s been paying her _extra special attention_ practically since he got back from that island. Guess he liked her little skirts, hmm? Maybe her style for _him_ is _doggy_.” Laney frowned at her dubiously, but Jenna just gave her a droll look. “Seriously, do you even realize how many times he came up here and just waltzed straight into her office? My money’s on him dropping by for quickies. She probably even got the private office because he wanted somewhere with four walls and a ceiling for his midday booty call. He’s totally the type. And better girls than Smoak have fallen for worse guys than Queen.”

Rico laughed. “Oh, man, you’re probably totally right about the office. It never made sense why she got it when so many of the rest of us have been here longer.”

Jenna nodded emphatically. “And hey, you know what? If Queen’s been using her as his little plaything, maybe good for her if she decided to turn that around and use _him_ to get further in life. Hilda in HR told me she got a super crazy raise for what’s practically a _demotion_ when you think about it.” Shrugging, she continued, “From a lady power standpoint, I guess hey, go for it Smoaky. Wring him for every drop he’s got.” She grinned wolfishly, panning it from Rico to Laney. “And every penny, too.”

Rico snickered. “Oh, that’s wrong. So wrong. And maybe it’s antifeminist of me or whatever, but I can’t really congratulate her for it. I just can’t respect somebody whose aim is to get more money for less work. I mean, damn, she’s trading in firewall maintenance and software upkeep and didja-turn-it-off-and-on-again for some file collating and lying back and thinking of England. Excuse me if I’m a little bitter that she’s making more money than me to answer the phone and drop her panties.”

Laney sighed, moving to the sink to rinse her mug while Jenna replaced her creamer in the ancient break room fridge. “You just better watch for the gold-digging baby mama headlines hitting TMZ by this time next year. Just remember I totally called it.”

—

Felicity uprooted her feet from the thin carpet beside the IT breakroom door, turning on her heel and hurrying away, desperate to escape before the room’s three occupants exited into the hallway.

She set a fast course for the elevator, eyes down on the pointed toes of her bright yellow heels, refusing to blink lest the prickle and burn give way to actual tears. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, anger—and betrayal.

These people had been her coworkers. Rico had supposedly liked her. Laney and Jenna, she’d thought, were her _friends_.

How could they think these things about her? How could they say them to each other like it was truth, like it made sense? How could that _really_ be what they thought of her?

Felicity stopped in front of the elevator, finger stabbing viciously at the “up” button, her other hand fisted straight down at her side lest she wrap her arm around her stomach to cover the bleeding wound that only felt like it was tearing her stomach open.

She bit her lip, toe tapping impatiently as the elevator took its sweet time arriving. She didn’t know what she would do if Jenna or Laney or Rico found her before the doors opened—at this point she thought her options were pretty much either violence or crying, maybe both.

"Hey!" Felicity flinched like the cheery greeting was a gunshot, and turned her head to see not any of the three breakroom gossips, but instead Ralph, a fifty-eight year old who seemed a little out of place in IT, but whose work was always to standards and his demeanor always friendly and cheerful. He smiled at Felicity, standing beside somebody’s cubicle with a file folder under one arm. "Did you find Laney? I hope she didn’t already go to lunch before you caught up with her."

Felicity swallowed hard and dredged up a thin smile, helplessly wondering if Ralph was the same sweet, kind man she’d always thought and liked, or if he, too, thought she was Oliver’s bit on the side, if he also talked about her like she was a walking tabloid article. “Uh, no. I think she must’ve already left, uh, I’ll just have to—have to call ahead next time. Thanks anyways, Ralph.”

"No problem, Felicity," Ralph nodded, smiling and waving as the elevator doors opened behind her.

Felicity fled into the thankfully empty lift and hit the button for the executive floor desperately. Her lunch break was already half over, and much as she’d wanted a break from the irritable tension currently taking up all the air between her and Oliver in their offices, she’d have to swallow her pride—what increasingly little was left of it—and eat something something from the vending machines, at her desk.

Apparently, she no longer had anywhere else to go in this building.


End file.
